He'd already had a tense, almost-conversation with Snart about why he'd been acting off. His partner knew that something was wrong and basically told him to get his shit together, which earned a snarl in reply and an assurance that he's fine, fuck off. Guys like them don't exactly have heart to heart conversations, so that was about as close as they were going to get.

But he still couldn't talk to Sara. Could barely look at her without it setting up a hollow ache in his chest.

Naturally she'd sneak up on him in the galley when he was just looking for a bite. A grunt in reply as he slides a plate over to her. Blueberry pancakes and thick bacon. Her favorite way to start a Sunday. Mick rubs a hand over his head, trying to keep the memories straight. Maybe a second round of Induction at the hands of the Time Masters had well and truly scrambled something in his brain.

He doesn't even think about it, moving to get coffee and doctoring it up just the way she takes it before sitting down and listlessly picking at his own food.

Suddenly he's not hungry anymore.